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“Have I offended you?”
“No. On the contrary, you made me realize something. Now I do want to know, Isabelle. So you’re not a teenager anymore. What do you want in a man?”
As if I’ve given her time to consider, she answers immediately, “I want to feel safe with him. I want to feel that I mean the world to him. And you? What do you want in a woman?”
I appraise her from head to toe, like I’d just seen her for the first time. “Genuineness.”
She shifts back in her seat. “Is that why you persisted on me?”
“Yes.” I take the wine glass away from her. She clutches it so tightly she could well snap the stem in two.
She nips her lip as if trying to contain something within her.
“Tell me, Isabelle.” I put her hand in mine. “Do you think I can give you what you want?”
“Why the question, Clayton?”
“Don’t look at what I have around me. Look at me. Look at the person in front of me.” I place my palm on her chest, staring at her intently. “I’m not a fantasy. And tell me you’re not either.”
“No, I’m not. I’m real.”
“So am I.”
I claim her with a kiss, and she softens as if surrendering. She’s still wearing her overalls, and I’ve been dying to strip her since she put them on, but right now, I simply want her lips to connect with mine, to be one with mine.
My palm coasts up to the back of her head, tightening our contact. My fingertips tingle, feeling the texture of her silky hair. Even after a long day out, I can still smell her iris scent, tempting me to consume her.
“Oh, baby…” she murmurs when we come up for air.
Oh, baby, indeed. If I ever had to walk away from her, I don’t know if I could take it. With her, everything seems to be within my reach.
Too good to be true?
I’ll take too good to be true if it’s with Isabelle.
Starting with what’s been taunting me all day.
I pull her up, forcing her to straddle me as I take her to my bed. As I lay her down, I keep my position between her parted thighs.
Her zipper purrs under my pulling fingers. It stutters as it passes the mound of her boobs, teaching me a lesson of patience. I know she’s real—but God help me, Isabelle in her pilot overalls is an onslaught of vigor and female beauty which fits my fantasy to a tee.
I’m rewarded when her generous cleavage comes into view, and in return, I reward her with kisses—kisses that soon turn into me feasting on her smooth olive skin. I stop the zipper at her belly, then lift her singlet. She’s braless, giving my mouth instant access to her nipples. They’re brown like almonds, ample and firm. They rest on gorgeous areolas, which seem to be almost as sensitive. I swear their texture changes every time the tip of my tongue land on them.
My cock throbs from the sensation of sucking her. It fucking hurts. It begs for a release. I have to adjust my pants.
I take off the top part of her overalls and get rid of her singlet. I search for her entrance through the thick fabric—and her jeans shorts. She writhes with a restrained shriek. Perhaps I’m rubbing it too hard.
Seeing her agony, I unzip her all the way, yanking her overalls and shorts off her legs.
Oh fuck…
She’s wearing a pair of thin, lacy panties that dip low, barely covering her sex. Her smell is destroying me—I’m not sure how long I can last.
“Clayton…” She stretches her belly, the start of her entrance peeking out of her panties.
I insert my palm under the lacy material, poking my finger into her. She moans—but she’s not there yet.
The urge to enter her grabs me like a wave, but I keep my throbbing cock tucked inside my pants despite it precumming relentlessly. I’ve got to get her well-lubed, or I’m going to hurt her—too much. I spread her legs and press my mouth against her opening.
